Théo and Éomer: In the dead of night ...
Mar. 26th, 2006 02:48 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rohansonThéo: With a gasp, I am suddenly awake, forced from sleep by rapidly fading images, my heart hammering in my chest as I slowly get my bearings. Your arms and scent surrounding me are enough to begin to calm me and I turn in your embrace to face you as an involuntary shiver passes through me, and wind my fingers gently into your hair.
Nightmares never trouble me here, and it feels like an intrusion into our peaceful time together.
Éomer: My sleep is disturbed by something, and instincts and long years of training take over. I open my eyes, keeping perfectly still, trying to decide what woke me. As my eyes adjust I realise I am in Paris's warehouse . . . safe . . . no threats.
But something woke me and your weight against me is not heavy with sleep, but rather vibrating quietly with suppressed tension.
My voice is a husky rumble, thick with sleep.
"What is it, Théo?"
Théo: “Bad dream.” I murmur, the low tone of your voice making me shiver for an entirely different reason than before and with a sigh I press myself against you, wanting to chase the last lingering sense of unease from my mind.
Your hair is silky between my fingers and I push a strand of it back from your face and brush my lips across yours, slowly coaxing your mouth open.
Éomer: I wonder what dream could have shaken you so, but you seem fine now, and you are distracting me from any thoughts of dreams. Your mouth works at mine and I open for you with a groan, tightening my arms around you and pulling you closer.
I do not know what nightmare invaded your sleep, but I will use my body to drive it away from you. I slide a leg up your flank, rubbing against you, showing you that I will give you whatever you may need.
Théo: My tongue explores your mouth as our bodies languidly twist together in this warm sleep edged haze, almost as if in a dream. And perhaps that is why I can ask you for something I rarely need, but that I find myself craving in the dead of night.
I pull back and rest my forehead on yours, my eyes closed. “Hold me down?” I whisper. A request, a question, not a command. I unwrap my arms from around your neck, swallowing with anticipation. “Please, Mer?”
Éomer: Lust flares through me at your request and I growl, rolling you over, pressing you down into the bed with my weight. My hands are big enough to capture your wrists, and I pull your arms over your head, then pull back to look at you in the dimness of the room.
I cannot see your eyes, cannot read your expression, but I heard the need in your voice, and I understand this, for this you have also taught me. Nudging a thigh between yours, I push my rapidly hardening cock against your groin and you buck, pulling against my hold, your chest expanding. I dip my head to your chest, getting my teeth on the ring piercing your nipple, tugging on it roughly.
"Spread for me." My voice is still low, gravelly.
Théo: Your assault on my nipple has me whimpering and writhing as I spread my legs wide and roll my hips to slide my leaking erection against yours with a groan. Held down by your firm grip on my wrists, I squirm against it, needing to know you will not let go, no matter how much I may try to escape it.
In giving in to this need that I do not fully understand, this need to be forcibly held down, it is as if I lay my soul bare. I could never allow myself to feel this vulnerable with anyone but the one person I trust absolutely.
The stubble of your chin rasps against skin suddenly so sensitive and I arch, arms tensing as I push my head back against the pillows.
Éomer: Your body under me is opening willingly and my lust climbs higher at this position, for you so rarely allow me to have control over you. I tighten my hand around your wrist, knowing that some things will be impossible to achieve while one hand is thus
occupied, but I do not wish to find bonds for you . . . I want your bonds to be my hands.
My free hand slides down your leg, pulling it up and wrapping it around my waist, leaving you vulnerable to me. You struggle, but I know the way of this now, and you cannot escape me with my weight on you.
Mouth drifting over your chest, I kiss and bite, sucking hard below one nipple, hard enough to mark you and growling in satisfaction with my possession of you.
Théo: The muscles in my arms twitch, my fingers clenching as I buck up against you, grinding my erection against your taut stomach and I moan, rubbing my face on your hair as your mouth worries my skin. The scrape and bite of your teeth make me hiss and I gasp at the sharp spike of pain as you leave your mark on me. I push up, silently begging for more and feel the raw growl vibrating over my chest which in turn sends deep tremors coursing through me.
“Please Mer …” My words dissolve into a groan as you bite down again. And it takes a moment to regain the power of speech. “Take me … claim me …”
Éomer: You will have to be stretched with spit this time, for I cannot reach the lotion from where I am, and I do not wish to release you hands. I rear back and put my fingers in your mouth, letting you wet them thoroughly, before I reach down between your spread legs and smear the moisture around the sensitive pucker of muscle behind your balls.
Your body moves against me urgently, and I lean against you to hold you still for my probing. When I have opened you the best I can under the circumstances, I remove my hand and push your knee up farther. I line my cock head up with your entrance and push in slowly, giving you time to relax.
Théo: My breathing is ragged as I force myself to relax enough to take you, my back arching as you fill me, pushing in to the hilt and you still for a moment before you begin to move. My body is so tight around you that at first the friction inside is almost too much to bear, but it eases into pleasure. The pressure around my trapped cock adds to the overload of sensation, and I cry out as you thrust into me.
Éomer: Your body finally gives in to me and I can move freely. I increase my pace, tightening my hold on your hands, my other hand holding your hip in place, gripping you as I ride you.
The rhythm I set is hard and fast, and I know I will not last long, not with your body hot and tight around my cock, every stroke into you sweeping delicious pressure along my swollen shaft.
"Ah, Théo, you feel so good . . . come with me."
Théo: In the darkened room, our bodies slam against each other as you hold me down and ride me hard, giving me what I need, a taste of freedom from constantly being in control. It is part of who I am, and hard to set aside, but when you take it from me like this … I buck and writhe against your grip as you possess me, claim me.
I cannot see your face, but I can feel your breath on my face and your hand tight around my wrists. Your words free me and I let go, whimpering as my balls tighten, and call out your name jerking violently as I come, my seed spurting between us. You swell inside me and I throw my head back as your own orgasm begins to take you, bolts of pleasure still shooting through me.
Éomer: You obey me, and your body clamps down on me, sending me over the brink, and I groan loudly with it as my desire reaches the peak and then crashes into us. My hips grind into you, while I spurt as deep into your body as I can reach. We ride through the end of it together, and I rest my head on your chest, panting still.
I stay within you until I soften too much, and when I pull out, I coil around you, surrounding you with my body.
"Better now?"
Théo: All wrapped up in you, sated and sleepy and completely relaxed, I nuzzle your neck with a happy sigh, nodding. “Yes, much better.” The nightmare has long faded, pushed from my mind by your attentions and it has no place here.
I wriggle in your arms, stretching mine and rolling my shoulders before kissing you and tracing your features with my fingers. The tips linger on your full lips before I snuggle back against you with a yawn. “Sleep now?” There are still a couple of hours until dawn and I want to spend them right where I am.
Éomer: My voice is soft, relaxation moving through me, making my limbs heavy, "Sleep now, I will guard you."
I would do anything I could to keep you safe, no matter if the thing that assails you is a nightmare. I press a kiss to your temple, my hands moving slowly over your back, soothing you into sleep until morning comes.
NC-17
Nightmares never trouble me here, and it feels like an intrusion into our peaceful time together.
Éomer: My sleep is disturbed by something, and instincts and long years of training take over. I open my eyes, keeping perfectly still, trying to decide what woke me. As my eyes adjust I realise I am in Paris's warehouse . . . safe . . . no threats.
But something woke me and your weight against me is not heavy with sleep, but rather vibrating quietly with suppressed tension.
My voice is a husky rumble, thick with sleep.
"What is it, Théo?"
Théo: “Bad dream.” I murmur, the low tone of your voice making me shiver for an entirely different reason than before and with a sigh I press myself against you, wanting to chase the last lingering sense of unease from my mind.
Your hair is silky between my fingers and I push a strand of it back from your face and brush my lips across yours, slowly coaxing your mouth open.
Éomer: I wonder what dream could have shaken you so, but you seem fine now, and you are distracting me from any thoughts of dreams. Your mouth works at mine and I open for you with a groan, tightening my arms around you and pulling you closer.
I do not know what nightmare invaded your sleep, but I will use my body to drive it away from you. I slide a leg up your flank, rubbing against you, showing you that I will give you whatever you may need.
Théo: My tongue explores your mouth as our bodies languidly twist together in this warm sleep edged haze, almost as if in a dream. And perhaps that is why I can ask you for something I rarely need, but that I find myself craving in the dead of night.
I pull back and rest my forehead on yours, my eyes closed. “Hold me down?” I whisper. A request, a question, not a command. I unwrap my arms from around your neck, swallowing with anticipation. “Please, Mer?”
Éomer: Lust flares through me at your request and I growl, rolling you over, pressing you down into the bed with my weight. My hands are big enough to capture your wrists, and I pull your arms over your head, then pull back to look at you in the dimness of the room.
I cannot see your eyes, cannot read your expression, but I heard the need in your voice, and I understand this, for this you have also taught me. Nudging a thigh between yours, I push my rapidly hardening cock against your groin and you buck, pulling against my hold, your chest expanding. I dip my head to your chest, getting my teeth on the ring piercing your nipple, tugging on it roughly.
"Spread for me." My voice is still low, gravelly.
Théo: Your assault on my nipple has me whimpering and writhing as I spread my legs wide and roll my hips to slide my leaking erection against yours with a groan. Held down by your firm grip on my wrists, I squirm against it, needing to know you will not let go, no matter how much I may try to escape it.
In giving in to this need that I do not fully understand, this need to be forcibly held down, it is as if I lay my soul bare. I could never allow myself to feel this vulnerable with anyone but the one person I trust absolutely.
The stubble of your chin rasps against skin suddenly so sensitive and I arch, arms tensing as I push my head back against the pillows.
Éomer: Your body under me is opening willingly and my lust climbs higher at this position, for you so rarely allow me to have control over you. I tighten my hand around your wrist, knowing that some things will be impossible to achieve while one hand is thus
occupied, but I do not wish to find bonds for you . . . I want your bonds to be my hands.
My free hand slides down your leg, pulling it up and wrapping it around my waist, leaving you vulnerable to me. You struggle, but I know the way of this now, and you cannot escape me with my weight on you.
Mouth drifting over your chest, I kiss and bite, sucking hard below one nipple, hard enough to mark you and growling in satisfaction with my possession of you.
Théo: The muscles in my arms twitch, my fingers clenching as I buck up against you, grinding my erection against your taut stomach and I moan, rubbing my face on your hair as your mouth worries my skin. The scrape and bite of your teeth make me hiss and I gasp at the sharp spike of pain as you leave your mark on me. I push up, silently begging for more and feel the raw growl vibrating over my chest which in turn sends deep tremors coursing through me.
“Please Mer …” My words dissolve into a groan as you bite down again. And it takes a moment to regain the power of speech. “Take me … claim me …”
Éomer: You will have to be stretched with spit this time, for I cannot reach the lotion from where I am, and I do not wish to release you hands. I rear back and put my fingers in your mouth, letting you wet them thoroughly, before I reach down between your spread legs and smear the moisture around the sensitive pucker of muscle behind your balls.
Your body moves against me urgently, and I lean against you to hold you still for my probing. When I have opened you the best I can under the circumstances, I remove my hand and push your knee up farther. I line my cock head up with your entrance and push in slowly, giving you time to relax.
Théo: My breathing is ragged as I force myself to relax enough to take you, my back arching as you fill me, pushing in to the hilt and you still for a moment before you begin to move. My body is so tight around you that at first the friction inside is almost too much to bear, but it eases into pleasure. The pressure around my trapped cock adds to the overload of sensation, and I cry out as you thrust into me.
Éomer: Your body finally gives in to me and I can move freely. I increase my pace, tightening my hold on your hands, my other hand holding your hip in place, gripping you as I ride you.
The rhythm I set is hard and fast, and I know I will not last long, not with your body hot and tight around my cock, every stroke into you sweeping delicious pressure along my swollen shaft.
"Ah, Théo, you feel so good . . . come with me."
Théo: In the darkened room, our bodies slam against each other as you hold me down and ride me hard, giving me what I need, a taste of freedom from constantly being in control. It is part of who I am, and hard to set aside, but when you take it from me like this … I buck and writhe against your grip as you possess me, claim me.
I cannot see your face, but I can feel your breath on my face and your hand tight around my wrists. Your words free me and I let go, whimpering as my balls tighten, and call out your name jerking violently as I come, my seed spurting between us. You swell inside me and I throw my head back as your own orgasm begins to take you, bolts of pleasure still shooting through me.
Éomer: You obey me, and your body clamps down on me, sending me over the brink, and I groan loudly with it as my desire reaches the peak and then crashes into us. My hips grind into you, while I spurt as deep into your body as I can reach. We ride through the end of it together, and I rest my head on your chest, panting still.
I stay within you until I soften too much, and when I pull out, I coil around you, surrounding you with my body.
"Better now?"
Théo: All wrapped up in you, sated and sleepy and completely relaxed, I nuzzle your neck with a happy sigh, nodding. “Yes, much better.” The nightmare has long faded, pushed from my mind by your attentions and it has no place here.
I wriggle in your arms, stretching mine and rolling my shoulders before kissing you and tracing your features with my fingers. The tips linger on your full lips before I snuggle back against you with a yawn. “Sleep now?” There are still a couple of hours until dawn and I want to spend them right where I am.
Éomer: My voice is soft, relaxation moving through me, making my limbs heavy, "Sleep now, I will guard you."
I would do anything I could to keep you safe, no matter if the thing that assails you is a nightmare. I press a kiss to your temple, my hands moving slowly over your back, soothing you into sleep until morning comes.
NC-17
